


The Sheppard-Fischer Rooftop Assembly, Take Forty-One

by mayachain



Category: Inception (2010), Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: inception_kink, Crossover, Friendship, Gen, Grief, Sons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-26
Updated: 2011-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-15 23:29:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayachain/pseuds/mayachain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At his father's funeral, a childhood friend becomes Robert Fischer's touchstone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sheppard-Fischer Rooftop Assembly, Take Forty-One

* * *

Robert is trying to concentrate on Pastor Mayne’s words, but the amount of people crammed into the chapel makes it impossible. He’s aware that it’s irrational. Some will be staring at him, true, but most will be looking elsewhere – at the pastor, at their psalm book, at the flower arrangements, the white coffin, out the window.

Still, he can’t shake the feeling of every single person attending the service boring holes into his neck.

One stare feels different.

Somehow, Robert manages to make his way to the front and give his own short speech. He can’t allow his voice to tremble, not now. When he goes to sit down again, David Sheppard’s eyes follow his measured steps from the eighth row.

After the funeral, after the too short car ride, Robert stands next to Uncle Peter at the door to his childhood home’s grand salon, shaking hands with the mourners as they go inside. Time passes through a blur of condolences and solemn smiles. Etiquette demands he remember everyone , but until David’s hand clasps his, he couldn’t possibly name even the guests he recognized.

He expects a curt handshake, a short if sincere “Sorry for your loss.” They haven’t seen each other since Fischer-Morrows surpassed everyone but Proclus Global, since Father deemed Sheppard Industries a tiny company of no relevance.

“Mr Fischer,” David says. Robert is about to flinch at the formality when the man shakes his head and amends, “Robert. I am so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” Robert croaks out. He wants to say more, to keep this man by his side, but Uncle Peter is already on the next mourner. Robert attempts a smile, and David nods at him and walks on toward the canapes and drinks.

At the reception, Robert listens to Uncle Peter outlining the genesis of Fischer-Morrows and his and Father’s greatest accomplishments. Everybody claps when he calls Robert “the next Fischer to lead us into a bright future.” Robert tries to project an image of confidence and mostly succeeds, judging by the respect in the eyes of those around him. But his thoughts constantly return to his father’s last words. _I was disappointed._

Father is gone.

He makes sure to spend a few minutes with each of the guests. Whenever he feels uncertain as to whom he hasn’t spoken to yet, Uncle Peter’s new assistant appears with a glass of water and surreptitiously points him toward the right person. He doesn’t cross paths with David Sheppard at all. It stings, but it’s not that big a surprise. David inherited his father’s company, too, after all, and there are many powerful people gathered here today.

The days of escaping parties together at six and thirteen respectively are long gone.

Staying close mouthed about Fischer-Morrows’ future is a strain. None of the guests is tactless enough to ask outright, but there are more than enough hints. Robert understands that people are curious. Some have every right to be nervous. Phrases like “My father’s comfort has occupied all my thoughts these past days” are only just enough to buy him time today.

The only time Robert feels anything close to comfortable is the minute he spends exchanging formal pleasantries with Mr Saito, pretending under the gaze of about twenty other CEO’s that their companies aren’t locked in near mortal competition.

When Saito moves on to talk to Uncle Peter, Uncle Peter doesn’t look comfortable at all.

Mid-day slides into afternoon. The reception goes on, and on, and on. If he didn’t know deals were being made left and right here and now, Robert would wonder if these people didn’t have jobs, what good it could possibly do them to stay throughout the evening.

Just when he thinks he can’t possibly take one more stranger talking to him, a hand claps him on the shoulder. When he turns around, David Sheppard is standing behind him, a bottle and two champagne flutes in hand. Like so many times before long ago, he only says two words. “Come on.”

*

They end up on the roof. The view of the cityscape is less impressive from Robert’s adult point of view than he remembers it, but just the fresh air and the silence are enough to relax his shoulders. He’s not quite sure what kind of behavior is appropriate, even if part of him couldn’t care less about propriety this very minute. It's a relief when David doesn't hesitate to seek out their customary ledge to sit down on despite his fairly expensive-looking suit.

David waits until Robert is seated before he hands him a flute and tops it up with champagne. “To your father,” he says.

“To my father.”

Father is gone.

There are years between them to catch up on, but Robert has just spent hours suffering through small talk and spinning lies about his own well-being.

Sheppard Industries is completely out of Fischer-Morrow’s league, and David knows it. It’s freeing to be here with possibly the only person at this funeral who doesn’t expect at least one lucrative future deal out of it.

“Thank you.”

They have never needed many words between them.

From the way both of them never seemed to be good enough in the eyes of their fathers, there should have been a connection between Robert and the younger Sheppard brother. John had tried talking to Robert from time to time, but he’d been too obviously angry at his father, too ready to actually say the words Robert never could, too _dangerous_.

David had been none of these things. David had been safe.

David is safe. He doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t demand Robert be a host. With the faint notes of Uncle Peter's favorite jazz band drifting up from the reception, they drink their champagne in silence.

Father is gone.

When David fills his glass for the second time, though, Robert remembers that no matter how comforting the quiet, there is something that needs to be said. “I should have been at your father’s funeral.”

David only looks at him and shakes his head. “He wouldn’t have expected you to come.” Maurice Fischer had long since decided Patrick Sheppard’s company wasn’t important enough anymore to bother inviting the man.

In light of David's presence on this roof, it’s an explanation, but a very poor excuse. “Still.”

“You missed some excitement. John actually showed.”

“He did!?”

Without looking up from his champagne flute, David nods. “Too late to change anything, but yeah. I could hardly believe it.”

And apparently, it had been up to David to relay his father’s thwarted wish for reconciliation.

The last thing Robert wants is to repeat the last words his own father said to him to anyone. It’s bad enough that Uncle Peter must be able to guess. But he appreciates hearing about Patrick Sheppard’s final hours, even though it hurts, knowing that the man had regretted his treatment of his younger son when Robert got to hear the exact opposite.

Not for the first time, Robert wonders if it would have been easier if he himself hadn’t been Maurice’s only son.

Father is gone.

He won't break down and cry, here. But it feels good to know there would be no repercussions if he did.

“I have no idea what to do,” he confesses into the sanctity of the Rooftop Assembly.

It’s not true. Uncle Peter diligently advised him about his preferences. He knows what steps Father would want taken to further Proclus Global’s marginalization. He’s aware of how best to prioritize them.

But he has no idea how to begin. How can he not fail, when Father was so continuously disappointed in him?

“Taking over Sheppard Industries was hard,” David says. “I had to make everyone truly accept me as the new boss, even though I’d already shown I could handle the responsibilities during the last months before Dad’s heart attack.”

The dimensions are different. Robert could buy out Sheppard Industries tomorrow, if he wanted to. But it’s still a relief to hear this, to hear David recount his struggles in the knowledge that he made it.

“I had to remember to never let anyone make the decisions for me.”

Heart sinking, Robert recalls the way he let Uncle Peter take the lead downstairs. He needs to go back there. The first guests will probably – hopefully – be leaving soon.

He doesn't want to.

As if reading his mind, David says, “Start tomorrow, that’s more than good enough.”

“Yeah. I will.”

Robert Fischer may have been a disappointment to his father, but Uncle Peter believes in him, and so does this grown-up version of his childhood friend.

* * *

When Robert signs the papers that destroy Fischer-Morrows, he spares a minute to imagine what David will think of it.

He remembers how Maurice had laughed when John Sheppard had given Patrick’s plans for his glorious future the finger. At the time, he’d thought it had been because his father had liked to see other people’s weaknesses, but now he has to wonder, if some tiny part of him hadn’t been rooting for the younger Sheppard trying to make his own life all along.

* * *

Six months later, he calls the CEO of Sheppard Industries about a business opportunity.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt:  
> A childhood pal that Robert had lost touch with -- a friend from school, or one of the Browning children, or whatever -- is in attendance at Maurice Fischer's funeral. They wind up sneaking out on the roof like they always used to, to drink and reminisce and be sad together.


End file.
